


you be my fire and I'll be your gasoline

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Don't think too hard about it, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, F/M, It's just fluffy smut, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Well at least Ravus, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Ravus distracts Aranea from some of her more tedious work.





	you be my fire and I'll be your gasoline

Ravus steps into Aranea's office, but sees that she's on the phone. He closes the door quietly behind him and arranges his considerable height onto one of the assortment of mismatched chairs. Everything's a shambles in the perpetual darkness, and Ravus takes a moment to turn his nose up at the disorder of it all.

He examines his fingernails, fiddles with a spare part on her desk, puts it back. She finishes her call; sets her phone down, and it rings again instantly. She looks at who it's from, mouths a silent apology to him, and picks it up again.

Ravus huffs somewhat loudly and she shoots him a green glance that is equal parts stern and affectionate. He looks at how cute her silvery eyebrows are when she draws them together like that, and reaches a long arm across the desk. He plucks the pen she's looking for from her ponytail and hands it to her, and enjoys her little sheepish grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm trying to finish that plan, but it's kind of hard when you all keep calling me. Yep, just hung up with that one.” She slides a hand into her bangs and lets out a tired laugh.

Ravus pats her hand, and she gives him a grateful look. She's been working hard, and from the way her leg is bouncing, she's reaching her limits of being trapped indoors.  Aranea is composed of fluid, kinetic movement, and her energy is always snapping just beneath the surface. She's better suited to asskicking and pursuit; she's not made to be trapped behind a desk. It's too bad for her that she's also got a good mind for strategy.

“Yeah, patch ‘em in. Yeah, I'll wait.” She takes a minute to roll her neck and shoulders, and Ravus gets an idea.  He stands up, and Aranea barely notices, until he nonchalantly locks the door.

A large eyebrow raise, at that, and she struggles not to let her smirk infuse its way into the phone call, which has connected, and she starts taking notes and murmuring vague responses.  

Ravus nuzzles Aranea's ear as he pulls her chair back from the desk to create space, and she reaches up with her pen in hand and twirls her fingers into his soft, pale strands that fall, just brushing her shoulder. She loves his hair, and his vanity does enjoy that. It reminds him of quiet afternoons spent in her lap, crimson nails scratching lightly at his scalp as they relax and talk.

But that's not today. Ravus is bored, and he's creative when he's bored. He moves around languidly to stand in front of Aranea, leaning back on her desk a little. She gives him a fond glance and sets the pen down to stroke absently at his midsection, a few warm, affectionate passes of her palm.

When she picks the pen back up again, reaching behind him for her notebook, Ravus leans forward and runs metal fingertips lightly against the sensitive skin of her inner arm. Aranea shivers and gives him a playful frown. “ _Busy_ ,” she mouths silently around the phone.

He looks down at her, an amused smile teasing at his lips. “Yes, but I'm not,” he murmurs, too quietly for the person on the phone to overhear.

Or not. He doesn't really care, as he steps forward and his lips graze lightly at the side of her neck. Instead of squirming away, she leans into it, and Ravus' lips curve against her porcelain skin. He feels her let out the exhale slowly, to avoid a sigh, and his lips open, tongue darting out to savor her skin.

Aranea lays her pen down, in slow motion. She does keep the phone dutifully pressed to her ear, but at the same time she slides her hand behind his back and pulls him close.  

“Yeah, I see the problem. You wanna send them by tomorrow? We can talk training, supplies, maybe scrape together some reinforcements.”

Fingers dance lightly over Aranea's collarbone, and Ravus can feel her pulse under his lips. Her own lips part and she takes a quick breath, darting a sideways glance at him that makes his own heartbeat quicken. His fingers coast over the fabric of her shirt to cup her breast, and she puts the phone on speaker and mute, laying it gently on the table. She angles her head to his and thrusts her tongue into his mouth with no tender preface; he was right, it seems, about how pent up she is. He strokes her nipple through the fabric and feels her push back against him, needy.

The voice from the speaker pauses, waiting for a response. Aranea rolls her eyes, turns her head, stabs the button, and barks “Continue.”

Ravus picks up the phone and places it back in her hand. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

His expression is a taunt, a dare; one she gleefully accepts. She takes the phone off speaker and cradles it to her ear again, and then takes Ravus’ hand and guides it inside her shirt and bra. Ravus watches her teeth sink into that plush lower lip as he rubs and then pinches at the rapidly stiffening peak. She grabs at his hand, and he thinks she’s about to end their fun, but she just shoves his hand into the other side of her bra and strains against him, making full eye contact. Ravus lets out a laugh that turns into a growl and feels a pooling warmth at the base of his spine. He shifts his hand enough to flick the clasp at the front of her bra, and his eyes widen with interest as her breasts spring free.

He crouches down and takes a moment just to pull up her shirt and breathe in the scent of her skin. He covers her, completely, and she relaxes a little. He almost forgets, sometimes, how much smaller she is than him. That voice, the brashness, the swagger - they all add up to more than you'd expect from her muscular, compact five-foot-six frame. Ravus likes it when she towers over him, flipping the expected narrative on its head, too, but not today.

Today Aranea's the one who gets to forget everything, to be soothed under his eager lips, fingers, and tongue. Ravus intends to worship and enjoy her fully, and she seems keen to his interest. His hands rove across her midsection, left bare by the shirt he’s pulled up. It's a beautiful pale creamy stretch of curves and graceful plains, crisscrossed by scars old and new. His fingertips trace her smooth lines and she breathes faster. Ravus’ pants have become uncomfortably tight. He ruts gently against Aranea's leg, knowing she will enjoy it.

She does, looking down at him with growing lust in her eyes and grinding her shin into him, watching him react silently but showily, letting her see the pleasure and the desire cross his face before he returns to giving her attention again.

She couldn’t have worn a skirt; no, that wouldn’t be her style. He grins ruefully and works at the button of her jeans, watching her stomach flex as she lifts her hips so he can ease them off.

“Yeah, I’m still here.” She does her best to sound disinterested, yet attentive, but Ravus knows her pulse is pounding in her ears; that if they were alone, he’d be hearing her sigh and murmur his name against his skin. Too bad, really, but her little show of self-restraint is also quite enticing.

As Ravus’ lips course over the supple skin of Aranea’s inner thighs, he hears her voice change just a little. Probably imperceptible to the person she’s talking to, but a little higher, a little tighter.

“Hm, yeah, reroute the supply lines then.” Her voice trails off and she bites her lip again as Ravus lets his breath fall against the soft fabric of her panties. It had been tempting to pull everything off in one go, but that would hardly have played into his little game this afternoon. He traces a finger lightly over the cotton fabric, just touching her, and listens to the smallest tremor in her voice.

Aranea puts the phone on speaker again and presses the mute button. She looks down at it, says “Hey, asshole,” to test it, and when the man talking doesn’t indicate he’s heard her, makes full eye contact with Ravus again. She stands up and takes her panties off herself, then sits back down and slings one leg over the arm of the chair, toying with Ravus’ hair invitingly.

His eyes dart to the phone, and she just laughs. “I can multitask.”

Ravus quirks an eyebrow as though to challenge that assumption, and licks and kisses a determined trail from her knee back toward her glistening wetness, along her inner thigh. His mouth trails messily, with the occasional light nip of teeth, just the way she likes it. He can feel her thigh quiver under his tongue, just as he can feel his own arousal uncurl itself.

He takes his time, and her fingers flex and grasp at his shoulders, into his hair again. It draws a satisfied sound from the back of his throat as he arrives at his destination.

“Yes.” It’s no more than a breath, as Aranea’s head drops back and she pulls at the back of Ravus’ neck.

Small kitten licks at the seam of her pussy have her moaning for him already. She never begs him, but Six, she has to be close to doing so. He slips his tongue between them and she gasps. She's dripping wet; the taste is sharp and sweet and familiar. Ravus savors one flick, then two, pulling her essence into his mouth and watching her writhe for him.

His eyes skate up her body for a long moment: the silvery curls he's buried his face in, the curved swell of her hips. She twitches with desire under his gaze. The taut planes of her body give way to the impossibly plush softness of her breasts. They're rounded and moving with her breaths; her nipples are stiff and straining. Ravus reaches up to pinch one, hard; he's rewarded with a beautifully filthy noise and her hand on his, insisting he give the other the same treatment.

She bucks into his mouth, demanding. He smiles and willingly acquiesces. Finally, he swipes a flattened tongue across her clit and she gasps. “Oh, _fuck_ , Ravus, _yes_.” The whisper snakes past his ears and slides down, around to the coil tightening in his belly.

He dives in with a will; the pieces of Aranea have started to separate under his hands and mouth and he wants nothing more than to pry them further and further until she flies apart for him.

His hands stop skimming her body for a moment to pull her hips toward him. He tugs her firmly, using that little bit of force he knows she'll get off on.

He sucks her clit into his mouth and she cries out, making him wonder briefly if anyone else is around to hear them through the door. She grips his hair, hard, and Ravus’ cock strains again. He swirls his tongue into her folds and laps at her clit; burying his face; feeling the soft velvety slickness of her under his tongue. Her breathing grows rapid and he can hear her holding her breath occasionally; his own hips twitch and squirm - he opens his mouth wider to probe his tongue inside and shivers at her response.  

“Hello? Are you there? Commodore Highwind? I think I’ve lost you. I’m going to hang up and call you back.”

The click of a disconnect; then Aranea lets her own voice soar and break. Ravus hums into her for a moment, enjoying her messy sexiness, the way she comes undone for him. Wetness floods his mouth and chin, and her body twists in pleasure.

One finger, then, slid slowly in so she can clench down on it. Her eyes catch his, then slam shut again while she tenses. He pushes his thumb flat against her clit and she grinds against it, slowing to completion with the occasional flutter and burst.

Messy though Ravus is, he leans forward to kiss Aranea deeply. She just laughs at the taste of herself and winds those fingers into his hair again; he closes his eyes into the fire and the softness of her.

Her hand finds the waiting bulge at his crotch; she squeezes ruthlessly and he breaks the kiss in distraction - his lips part; breath hitches. He leans his forehead close to hers again. “I think you're done working for today. Let's go home.”

“What, you don't wanna do it right here?”

He sneers a bit. “The floor is less than comfortable, and in my current mood, I fear I might break your chair.” The last few words are a growl, and he nips at her lower lip.

A low laugh in response. “Oh, I _like_ that mood.” She's dressed again in a flash, tugging his hand out the door. They stop occasionally to slam each other into walls when nobody's looking; grab a quick grope; nibble a neck or an ear or a lip - whatever's in reach, really.  

Aranea’s breathless laugh as she flops onto the bed is everything, and Ravus’ eyes don’t leave her as he reaches behind him to close another door, turn another lock. She’s still flushed, and heavy-lidded eyes watch him as he strides toward her to claim her mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @littlecakes for the beta! All remaining errors are mine. 
> 
> Come talk to me on Twitter at @stopmopingstart!


End file.
